


go the f*ck to sleep

by beenomorph



Category: Battleborn (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, someone save me from ths hell lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 11:22:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8247023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beenomorph/pseuds/beenomorph
Summary: for a prompt on tumblr, "things you said at 1am"





	

“What other kind of stuff do you do?” Oscar Mike had asked him, once. They’d been sitting in silence for a while– Oscar was awake unreasonably late for someone with a mission at 0700, but when he’d shuffled into the otherwise empty lab while ISIC performed some repairs for the damages he sustained during earlier combat, he found he didn’t particularly mind the company. It’s not really like he could have left anyways- his entire bottom half was disconnected, left leg almost entirely deconstructed. Oscar sat politely, cross-legged next to ISIC, and had finally stopped trying to touch the delicate, deconstructed mechanics of his leg after ISIC threatened to vaporize him.  


“And just what kind of stuff would that be?” ISIC takes the bait, and Oscar Mike hummed thoughtfully. He was kinda fun when he was tired, and the filter between his brain and his mouth dissolved entirely. Not that there was much of one to begin with, anyways.

“Y’know what I mean,” his voice was heavy as he ran a hand through his short hair, squinting in thought, words not keeping up with the sleep-addled concepts his brain was producing, “Like this. I never thought you had to…take yourself apart,  and all that junk.” 

ISIC scoffed. “Well, I sure as hell ain’t going to Kleese for repairs!” he chirped, skull avatar twisting around to look at where Oscar Mike was trying very hard not to reach out and touch the replacement support rods ISIC had carefully laid out moments before.

“How do you eat?”

“I don’t eat.”

“How do you…sleep?”

“I don’t sleep.”

“How do you–”

“Why the sudden curiosity, fella?” ISIC said, an exasperated puff of steam releasing from his vents. “How often do you… I dunno, spritz your gills? What do you dream about? Why does any of it matter, when we’re all doomed to die, anyways!” ISIC continued, irritation evident despite his ever-cheery tone. He pulled a bundle of damaged wires from his leg casing, tutting softly before shoving them into Oscar’s hands. He took the bait, distracted from messing with the new parts, instead turning over the tangled bundle of wire in his hands, already beginning to untangle the mess as if on autopilot.

There was silence for another moment as Oscar Mike considered ISIC’s retort and ISIC set to work replacing the damaged parts.

“I don’t spritz my gills, that’s super weird,” he said, finally, leaning against ISIC’s chassis as if they were pals. ISIC guesses they must be, since he didn’t even shove him off this time. His voice was lower, words slurring into each other as he made himself comfortable against the warmth of ISIC’s frame. “Super weird. Who even does that? Alani, maybe.” he scrubbed his eyes and yawned, “Just woke up from a shitty dream about spiders…” 

ISIC doesn’t have the mind to tell him that the questions were rhetorical. He considers telling Oscar Mike in detail how little he cares, or shifting to the side enough for the clone to lose his balance and slip onto his face, but he doesn’t.

Oscar doesn’t quite get around to answering that last question before he nods off. ISIC finishes his repairs accompanied only by the soft sound of his snores, deciding that he doesn’t really need the answer.  


**Author's Note:**

> its not very long but i figured, hey, might as well share this one


End file.
